A Tale of Two Princes
by Teenage Mouse
Summary: Two princes, Alfred and Arthur, become rivals on their quest to find a magical, wish-granting princess. Alfred is looking to his curse, and Arthur just wants his family's acceptance. But once the two princes are forced to start traveling together and get to know each other thanks to some help from their noble steeds suddenly their old wishes don't seem so important anymore.
1. Chapter 1: Adventure Is Out There

Chapter One

Adventure is Out There

Prince Alfred was actually kind of delighted when he got the curse put on him.

For 19 long years, he'd been stuck inside the Kingdom of America: forced to spend his youth learning every royal duty from how to bow properly, to how to avoid wars with a strategic ball invitation. Riveting stuff…

Even when he was allowed on diplomatic voyages to other kingdoms, he'd be restricted to the confines of _their_ castle walls. And as brilliant as Alfred was at avoiding boring lessons, escaping bodyguards, and causing trouble when he was supposed to be learning how to run a kingdom – the people around him were just as good at finding him and dragging him back to his lessons.

For someone who wasn't a princess locked in a tower, it felt an awful lot like he was a princess locked in a tower…

Of course, it wasn't like he didn't _care_ about being a good king. Alfred knew all this tedious training was important in the long run, and he _did_ try hard to prove himself. He desperately wanted to be a king of whom the Americans could be proud.

But even though a castle-full of people had spent 19 years moulding him into the perfect future king, in Alfred's opinion, he was still missing one very crucial piece of training to make him a worthy king.

It was all because of the stories…

No matter how old he got – no matter how many lessons he was forced to take on the reality of ruling a kingdom – Alfred couldn't help but remember all the stories he'd read or been told as a child. Stories where princes went out in the world to seek adventure, kill dragons and rescue damsels. Stories where princes had to prove themselves in an entirely different way than he was asked to do.

He _knew_ that they were just fairy tales. He knew that this was not something that actually mattered to anyone when it came to running a kingdom; his people would much rather have someone who could miraculously lower their taxes than a king who had once done some cool stuff when he was younger.

But still, the memories of these fairy tales princes stuck with Alfred his whole life through. They'd been ingrained at such a young age that even as he grew up he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he would never be a true prince until he had done what those princes had, proven himself the way they did. If he didn't go on an adventure and save the day and come back a hero, then he wasn't worthy to be king at all.

And so, when Alfred got a curse placed upon him, he took it as a blessing. _Finally_ he was allowed out into the world on a daring quest. Finally, he could be a _real_ prince!

His parents agreed that he must go and find a way to lift the curse. And to help him on his way they told him the rumours of a princess, far, far away from the Kingdom of America, who would grant wishes to the man who rescued her.

But even with a potential cure for the curse, the king and queen worried terribly. They had raised a boy using books and lectures – he wasn't used to harsh experience and dangerous risks. They warned him (rather frantically) that this would be unlike anything they had prepared him for in his royal training. The people he would meet on his journey might not obey the delicate rules of diplomacy he'd been taught in the castle. The monsters he would come across might play dirtier than his opponents in sword training. In short, it would be the toughest thing he'd ever done.

Luckily, the spirit of adventure had always been strong in Prince Alfred F. Jones, so he was looking forward to it.

Now, Prince Alfred knew that he would have competition on his quest to find the princess. Damsels in distress were few and far between in this time of peace, so if any other princes were out looking to prove themselves fairy-tale style, then there weren't many options to begin with. Plus, this damsel granted wishes. It would only make sense that Alfred would run into another prince sooner or later.

He just didn't really expect it would be _so_ soon: not even half an hour outside the walls of his kingdom's capital city, and still well within the boundaries of America.

"Excuse me. I know this might sound odd, but I was wondering if you had heard anything about a princess who grants wishes?"

Alfred jerked his white stallion, Hero, to a halt, and spun around in the saddle, trying to locate the owner of the voice with the strange accent. The question hadn't been directed at Alfred, but he heard it clear as day as he trotted happily past a farm in the beautiful American countryside.

"Sorry, your highness. Never heard of her."

"Oh, I see. Thank you, anyway."

Alfred urged Hero on a few feet, and there, just around the side of the farmhouse he'd been passing, was a prince. You could probably call him a handsome one – if you were into short blondes with good features, green eyes, nice posture and fancy clothes. He was just turning away, ready to get back into the saddle of his own black stallion, when his eyes rested on Alfred, staring at him from a few feet away.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, looking just as surprised as Alfred felt. "Do forgive me but you wouldn't happen to be Prince Alfred, would you?"

"Yeah," said Alfred, jumping out of the saddle and going to meet the newcomer.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, your highness," said the other prince, bowing low and coming back up with a smile. "I hope you don't mind my passing through unannounced. I shouldn't be here long, just collecting information to help me on my quest." Alfred nodded dumbly, as the other rambled on. "I'm looking for a princess who grants wishes. I know it sounds absurd, but I've had accounts from several reliable sources and – oh, do forgive me, I'm Prince Arthur of the Kingdom of England, by the way!"

He bowed again, and when he came back up this time, Alfred had come to a decision. A rather hasty decision, and one which wouldn't really help in the long run, but he was a little desperate. This was _his_ princess, _his_ quest, _his_ adventure! He was not going to let it end some other prince take it from him before he even got started!

"You got a curse put on you, too, huh?" Alfred said. "I can tell – just look at those eyebrows! Geez, you musta really pissed off that witch for her to do that to your face."

Prince Arthur stared for a moment, completely at a loss. Alfred watched in amusement as the blank face before him grew pink and then red – colour blossoming from the cheeks outwards, like a flower unfurling. Soon the angry blush covered Arthur's whole face, and even his neck and ears.

To his credit, Arthur tried to keep control of himself.

"I'll have you know that my…the size of my eyebrows are a trait passed down through the Kirkland family. They are a sign of nobility where I'm from."

"Yeah, well, where _I'm_ from, here in good ol' America, they're a sign of not owning a mirror."

And that was when the shouting started.

"You ill-mannered git! How very dare you! My eyebrows are no laughing matter you bloody wanker! Why don't you learn some sodding respect!" etc., etc. etc.

Alfred only laughed at the crazy English swear words raining down on him – they just sounded like nonsense words to him, so he couldn't find it in himself to feel too threatened. Plus, Prince Arthur shaking his fist at him with his red face and scrunched up eyebrows was just too funny.

Alfred grabbed the little golden crown off of Prince Arthur's head, and held it up high.

"Give that back!"

"No! That princess is mine! Let's see if she agrees to marry you if you don't have a crown to prove you're royalty!"

And with that, Alfred threw the crown over the farmer's fence. Arthur watched as it sailed through the blue sky, arching gracefully back towards the earth, and landed…splat in the mud of a pig sty.

Arthur stared, too dumbstruck to rage anymore, whilst Alfred cackled gleefully, racing back to Hero, leaping up into the saddle and galloping away. He knew Arthur would go wade through the mud to get his crown back (and the thought made him laugh harder) so he didn't want to waste this small head start.

Neither of them noticed Arthur's stallion whinny painfully as Hero rode away, and Alfred was too busy laughing to notice the struggle his horse put up as he was forced to leave the other two far behind.

Luckily for the horses, though, it wouldn't be too long before they met again.

* * *

**A/N:**

This story was inspired by a series of pictures by **maiyeng**, who is on Livejournal and tumblr. Please go check out the art to see the characters and the general idea of the story: maiyeng. tumblr post/ 19292638889/ 2-princes-attempt-to-rescue-a-princess-first-pic

(You know the drill: leave out the spaces hen you copy/paste the link.)

This was written for the USxUK LiveJournal community's Disney Summer Camp event. It was super fun, even though I was very busy during the entire event and didn't get to write as much as I wanted.

Each day there was a prompt based on a Disney song, so all the chapters of this story share titles with Disney music you may recognise.

The fanfic is already complete, so I'll be positng one chapter a day until it's all up.

Since this was written for an event with time limits, the chapters were pretty much churned out all in one go with very limited editing. I've done spellcheck, but I apologise for any other inconsistencies, errors or poor story-telling. I know that if I go back and try to rewrite it the way I want, I'll NEVER get it finished - so I'll just post what I originall wrote for the Summer Camp event.


	2. Chapter 2: True Love's Kiss

Chapter Two

True Love's Kiss

Over the following weeks, Prince Alfred learnt a lot about the mysterious, wish-granting princess. Not all of it made sense, a lot of it was fairly contradictory, and none of it came from a source that was particularly reliable. "A friend of a friend said…", "Farmer Giles' cousin heard…", "Well, my aunt's neighbour's milkmaid told him…"

The main problem wasn't where the princess could be found – all reports of the tower where she lived were fairly similar, so Alfred had a firm direction in mind for his quest.

The problem wasn't even the fact that nobody could tell him the princess' name.

The _real_ issue was that he heard such different accounts about how to _get_ his wish from her.

Some people said it was as simple as the old rescue routine (although, nobody could quite agree on what she had to be rescued _from_). The princess would be so grateful she'd grant your wish then and there. Other accounts said you had to rescue _and_ marry the princess, because she would only offer a wish to her husband.

But most worrying of all – for Alfred, at least – was the story he heard telling that the princess would only grant a wish to her true love. Which meant a rescue, and then…true love's kiss.

Now, Alfred had nothing against falling in love at first sight. In fact, in this case, it seemed the _least_ he could do in return for a wish being granted. Besides that, it was something he'd read about in the fairy tales that had inspired him, and something he'd wanted for a long time – whether it came from rescuing a damsel on a quest or at a ball back at the American palace. But, well, circumstances being what they were, Alfred was going to find that particular task a little bit difficult on this adventure. What with the curse and all.

Luckily, Alfred was a 'living-in-the-moment' sort of person, so although the true love's kiss might cause some trouble for him down the road, he was happy to journey as much as he could, and deal with it when the time came.

So over the following weeks, Alfred kept travelling, learning more about the magic princess and enjoying his quest outside the kingdom more and more each day.

And over the following weeks Prince Alfred met Prince Arthur again.

Often.

Alfred had taken to keeping his own crown safe inside Hero's saddlebags, just in case Prince Arthur showed up to return the favour of sending him on a muddy side quest. So the next time the two princes ran into each other, Alfred felt confident that Arthur wouldn't have any opportunity to hold him back.

Unfortunately, Alfred had picked on the wrong prince; Arthur knew how to hold a grudge, and pay it back tenfold.

"Oh, Prince Alfred!" a singsong voice called through the quiet, green woods.

Alfred turned in the saddle and saw Prince Arthur riding up behind him. He tensed, gripped Hero's reins tighter and prepared to gallop off at any second.

"Good morning to you, Your Highness," smiled Arthur.

"Uh…morning?" Alfred greeted, completely bewildered and uneasy. He didn't trust that smile at all. And he knew that _Arthur_ knew he didn't trust that smile (nobody would be foolish enough to expect the English prince to have forgiven and forgotten a prank like that), so he might as well just be blunt. "What's up with the smile?"

"I'm just so happy I caught up with you. Now I get to give you _this_."

He reached into the pockets of his fancy white coat and Alfred automatically flinched. Arthur noticed out of the corner of his eye, and smirked, before pulling out a…was that a chocolate-covered carrot?

"Um…" Alfred watched as Arthur brushed some dirt off the carrot, and inspected it closely – all for effect, of course, and to screw with Alfred's mind. "Whatcha got there, Artie?"

The nickname (a spur of the moment idea) paid off. The Englishman's hefty eyebrow twitched in anger, but he recovered quickly. This was _his_ payback moment, and he would not let Alfred get to him again.

"Oh, dear," Arthur sniggered. "The American kingdom's education system is worse than I thought."

"I _know_ it's a _carrot_," Alfred snapped. "I meant, what are you going to do with it? Giving me vegetables is supposed to pay me back for – "

"Who ever said it was for _you_, Your Royal Highness?"

Alfred frowned in confusion, and it took a good few moments of Arthur waving the carrot back and forth in front of his face before he realised Hero was practically shaking beneath him. Suddenly, his eyes widened in realisation and h glanced from the carrot to Hero.

Hero, his faithful steed, was staring hungrily at the carrot, head swaying back and forth in time with the carrot as Arthur waved it in the air. His tail was wagging, his legs jittering, and tongue hanging out of his mouth as he drooled.

"I heard from the American people that your horse is a strange one. He acts almost like a dog sometimes, and he just _loves_ to play fetch. Almost as much as he loves chocolate covered carrots."

By the time Alfred realised what was going to happen, it was too late. Arthur had thrown the carrot high into the air, over the trees of the forest and tumbling through the leafy canopy somewhere unseen in the distance. For such a petite looking guy, Arthur had a ridiculously good arm.

_That asshole_, was all Alfred had time to think. And then Hero was hurtling into the forest, crashing through the underbrush with Alfred barely managing to hang on and dodge the low hanging branches and trees that rushed past.

He wasn't sure, but he _thought_ he caught a glimpse of Arthur smiling and waving as he rocketed past. For Arthur's sake, he'd better _not_ have seen that, or the English prince was _really_ going to pay…

Several hours later found Hero bouncing around the base of a tree, watching Alfred clamber up to retrieve the carrot from the branches above. The stallion had refused to continue the quest until he'd eaten that carrot.

And Alfred decided it didn't actually matter if Arthur had cruelly waved or not.

It was _on_.


	3. Chapter 3: I See the Light

Chapter Three

I See the Light

The carrot incident was a declaration of war (Alfred had conveniently forgotten that he started it), and so from then on, whenever the two princes met, it was a bloodbath.

Not of actual blood, of course, but more of ridiculous pranks to slow each other down or divert them from their paths.

It was actually rather unbelievable how often the two princes met on their journey. It was every day – often more than once. One might almost think that they weren't really trying very hard to slow the other down and get rid of them, what with the way their pranks let them catch up to each other so often. And when one had managed to thwart the other's journey for a few hours they didn't exactly _race_ ahead to leave them far behind – just carried on as normal, and gave the other plenty of time to reach them again. And neither of them was really attempting to find a different route to be able to avoid the other prince entirely.

Not that they hadn't tried. Both Alfred and Arthur had attempted to race ahead, or reroute and find a new way to the princess' tower, so they could avoid each other and put an end to this ridiculous feud. It was actually the horses' fault.

No matter how hard Alfred tried, begged, urged, raged or bribed, Hero was not changing his course. He was going to keep going _this_ way, the same way as Arthur, and there was nothing Alfred could do to stop him. And he was _not_ going to gallop when they left Arthur and his stallion behind after some successful prank – he would trot painfully slowly until the two English travellers caught up with them. It was only when Arthur was the one leaving them behind that Hero would gallop on again, to catch up.

Sure, Hero had always been as stubborn as his rider, but he was a _good_ stallion, obedient and loyal – so why all of a sudden he refused to listen, was beyond Alfred entirely. He'd just had to get used to it over the past few weeks.

Maybe it was just being away from home for so long, Alfred thought. Out in the wide world, on a proper quest, without his nice stable and attendants and luxuries: perhaps it had put Hero out of sorts. Obviously, he didn't care as much about going on a quest as Alfred did. It saddened the American prince a little, because he'd always thought Hero would be the perfect noble steed for the job. But Hero was still the same old stallion whenever Arthur wasn't around – cuddling up to Alfred at night, playing with him when they had breaks, gorging on whatever food Alfred could scrounge up for him. So whatever Hero's problem was, it was mostly due to Arthur – because Hero would only act oddly when that stupid English guy and his horse were around. And that was just another cross to add next to Arthur's name.

It's worth pointing out that Alfred could be very oblivious sometimes. This was something everyone in the Kingdom of America knew (except for him).

So later that day, when Arthur and Alfred inevitably met again on the road, and Hero and Arthur's smoky stallion whinnied happily and trotted closer together, Alfred just started arguing with his self-imposed rival and didn't even notice.

He didn't even register the resistance Hero put up when Alfred tired to drag him away from the English stallion.

He only started wondering what was going on when Hero trotted purposefully over to the grassy verge of the path, plucked some flowers with his teeth, and practically skipped back to the English stallion. Somewhere during the arguing and Hero's strange behaviour, Alfred realised that Arthur's horse had done the same, and now both stallions were standing there nudging each other's noses with flowers bunched in their mouths, almost like…

"Uhh…" Alfred shifted awkwardly in the saddle, blushing and trying to pull Hero away from the other stallion.

"W-Wistful!" he heard Arthur exclaim, and Alfred could tell from the embarrassed stutter that he, too, must be blushing. "Come back here. Stop this nonsense."

"Hero, come on boy. Let's get going and leave these dorks behind."

"Dorks?! Excuse me, but I seem to recall hearing that you're the one who asked if you could play musical chairs at Prince Roderich's last ball."

The horses rolled their eyes, ready for another round of the prank war.

"Just because nobody else knows how to have any fun! I bet you don't even know the _meaning_ of the word, you snobby, stuck-up, pompous…uh…git face!"

"Hey! That's _my_ insult! And you want '_fun_?' I'll show you fun."

And with that, Arthur stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. It was so piercing that Alfred had to let go of the reins and slap his hands over his ears. And as he did so, Arthur took his opportunity and smack Hero on the hindquarters.

He hated resorting to using the American prince's stallion like this, but all he wanted was for the white horse to dash forward a few yards and for Alfred, having let go of the reins, to lose control and fall backwards onto the ground. Then Arthur would laugh and canter off, leaving the American prince in the dust.

But Hero had his own ideas. He saw his opportunity and took it – with wild abandon.

Instead of being mildly startled at the slap and darting forwards a little, he took off in mock terror – galloping down the path, ignoring the curve ahead and crashing headlong into the trees once again.

Alfred grasped wildly at Hero's mane for support, scrabbling with one hand to find the reins again, and at the same time trying clenching his eyes shut to avoid the branches smacking into his face as his horse raced recklessly through the woods.

"Hero! HERO, you idiot! _STOP_!"

Hero did.

But only because they'd reached the edge of a wide, rushing river. Hero's front hooves met thin air, but he managed to pull himself back before falling head-first into the racing water.

Alfred opened his eyes, feeling Hero judder to a halt, and gulped at the sight before him. "Woah, woah, Hero! Easy boy!"

The white stallion teetered on the edge of the small cliff, but Alfred shouldn't have had much trouble pulling him back onto level ground.

Except that Hero had had enough.

With a wag of his tail and a rebellious neigh, he leapt into the air, legs spread-eagled ridiculously, and out into the fast-flowing river.

"_HERO_!"

Alfred suddenly found himself plunged underwater. Under extremely cold, mountain water. It filled his lungs and slowed his limbs down as he tried to flail them in panic, and washed over his eyes so all he could see was blue and bubbles.

He didn't know what would have happened – but he was a hero, so it would probably have been fine. So he didn't really _need_ that hand grabbing at his collar and dragging him to shore. And he certainly didn't need Hero, that traitor, nuzzling at his face as he lay pathetically in the dirt of the river bank.

And he really, _really_ didn't need it being that posh English accent asking him: "Are you…okay, Your Royal Highness? …Alfred?"

Alfred coughed up some more river water and rubbed his eyes before sitting up slowly.

"Fine," he grumbled.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm…I'm so sorry, Your Highness. I didn't intend for that to happen. I mean, I shouldn't have done that in the first place. Are you alright?"

"You already asked that. Yes, I'm alright. And _no_, you _shouldn't_ have done that."

"Honestly, I didn't mean for it to go that far. I didn't realise your horse would be so startled by a little slap."

"Yeah, neither did I," Alfred said, frowning over to where his horse was huddled close to Arthur's stallion. Hero had the good sense to bow his head in shame at Alfred's glare.

"If I can do anything to make it up to you…"

Alfred swept his hand through his hair and finally looked over at the English prince.

Arthur was kneeling beside him, twisting his hands anxiously and eyebrows drawn up in worry. His beautiful white coat was dripping and dirty, and his scruffy hair clung to his face, framing it in a way that almost made him…less annoying, somehow.

It made Alfred feel a little bit bad for being so grumpy. Arthur _had_ just rescued him from the river. _Not_ saved his life – definitely not, because Alfred could have gotten out on his own. But, it was useless to deny: Arthur had _helped_ him get out of the river.

"I…uh…Thanks for helping me out there."

Arthur stared, shocked at the kind words, it seemed. "I-it's perfectly alright!" he gushed, jumping to his feet as Alfred stood up slowly, brushing the dirt and clinging water off his cape. "It _was_ my fault, after all."

"Yeah, it certainly _looks_ that way," Alfred said, shooting another meaningful look at Hero. He wasn't so sure his horse hadn't planned that all completely on purpose, now. (Proving once and for all that his obliviousness could be cured with a quick dump in cold water.)

"But you _must_ let me make it up to you," Arthur went on. "All your things…"

Alfred looked at the English prince, confused – then he realised that Arthur was referring to all his belongings. He looked over at Hero, and saw the missing saddlebags. His shoulders slumped. How was he supposed to carry on his quest with no food, no camping equipment, no extra clothes, no _nothing_.

Luckily, the horses weren't so dense.

Hero snuck up behind his owner, nosing his shoulder and nudging him forward towards the English prince.

Alfred looked at Arthur, and found himself blushing with nerves and scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He hated having to ask such a huge favour and be so dependent on the pompous Englishman. "Uh…well, do you think maybe…seeing as I've lost all my stuff because of _you_ …maybe I could…I dunno…travel with you?"

Arthur looked like he was about to refuse. In all honesty, Alfred couldn't really blame him – the American prince had been making his life a living hell for a solid month so it was no wonder he didn't want him around.

But then Arthur's stallion was nosing him in the back, pushing him towards Alfred and being very obvious about it all the while.

"I…I suppose," Arthur agreed, reluctantly. "I mean, of course. It was my fault after all."

Alfred looked up in surprise at Arthur's gentle tone of voice. He sounded genuinely sorry, and hopeful that he could help Alfred get back on his quest.

They looked at each other for a few moments.

Perhaps having a rival on his journey wasn't what Alfred needed, at all. Looking at Arthur now, as the sun peeked through the clouds to dry their clothes and warm them up, he suddenly envisioned travelling with a companion: fighting monsters and overcoming obstacles as a team, looking out for each other and enjoying the good times _together_.

He'd spent all those years stuck in his kingdom's palace, and, truth be told, he didn't have many close friends. Now here was an opportunity standing right before him. He'd never really thought of sharing his grand adventure before, but now, seeing Arthur in front of him, it seemed like it might really work.

"Although," the English prince said, looking away uncomfortably from Alfred's gaze. "You _could_ train your horse to be a little less paranoid."

It _might_ work. But then again, maybe not…


	4. Chapter 4: Something There

Chapter Four

Something There

The two princes had been travelling together for three days before Alfred realised…they'd been travelling together for _three days_. He'd barely noticed the time go by, he was enjoying it so much.

He'd thought it would be pure agony journeying with Prince Arthur. For the first hour or so he'd been looking forward to buying some new clothes and supplies as soon as possible and then getting the heck out of there. But then all of a sudden it was three nights later, they'd already passed two towns and bought lots of new supplies to share and he hadn't even thought about leaving.

Suddenly he started worrying if _Arthur_ had thought about him leaving. Did Arthur want him to go?

"Alfred, is dinner ready yet?"

Alfred jumped, dropping the wooden spoon into the stew he'd been stirring above their small campfire.

"Ah, yeah! Grubs up!"

"Charming," Arthur scoffed at Alfred's crass expression. But he shot the other prince a smile and Alfred knew he didn't actually mind. Arthur wasn't nearly as snobby and stuck-up as Alfred had decided to assume he was at their first meeting.

"Say, how'd you know I was me when we first met?" Alfred asked, as he served them up their dinner into two bowls. (Arthur had been forbidden to cook after their first disastrous meal where Alfred suspected Arthur was trying to poison him.)

Arthur sat down daintily on the log opposite Alfred and took his bowl of stew. The fire crackled merrily between them, and they settled themselves down for another night of chatting away under the stars, as they had for the past three evenings.

"Hm? Oh, you mean, at the American farm? Where you so _kindly_ threw my crown into the pig sty, like the gentleman you are?"

Alfred shrugged sheepishly. "I _said_ I was sorry."

"Well, I won't get tired of hearing it," Arthur smirked at him, knowing that Alfred still felt guilty for his childish prank, and exploiting it fully.

"I just got a little carried away because it was my first time outside the kingdom by myself. I was out on a real quest, like in the fairy tales, able to do whatever I wanted for the first time in my life! I guess I just started doing _exactly_ whatever I wanted without really thinking about it..."

"_I'll_ say you did."

Alfred looked up, hoping a cute, apologetic smile would get Arthur off his back. Somehow it did, as Arthur just shook his head at Alfred's endearingly childish expression, adding a smile of his own.

"I thought you just _really_ wanted that wish," Arthur added.

"What?! No, I don't even care!" laughed Alfred, waving his spoon in the air for emphasis. "I just didn't want you stealing my very first quest before it had barely got started. Although I guess I should apologise even _more_ – I mean, if you'd taken my quest from me I could have stayed away from home _longer_ looking for a _new_ way to lift the curse."

"Curse?"

Alfred looked up from his bowl of stew. Arthur was watching him, head tilted to the side like a puppy, or something that only _Alfred _should have been allowed to look like. And he was wearing a genuinely concerned expression, highlighted every time the warm glow of the fire flickered across his face.

Alfred almost felt like he was blushing, but it was probably just the warmth of the fire getting to him.

"Hahaha! Oh, it's nothing," he said, waving his spoon again, and laughing lamely. "Nothing life threatening or disfiguring, so it's no big deal. Seriously."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, and Alfred almost physically felt himself being weighed up. Then Arthur nodded and went back to his meal, seeming to let Alfred's admission slide. Although Alfred knew the subject would get brought up again when he least expected it, when Arthur knew the American prince would be blind-sided into giving a full confession.

And Alfred also knew it would be because Arthur was genuinely worried about him – not simply because the English prince would have some dirt on him.

"Anyway, to answer your question," said Arthur, "I'd heard about you from a few other princes. And I'd seen a portrait of you and your family from when you were…oh, I'd say about 12? You don't look much different, just…taller."

"How come we never met before?"

"Well, as you've complained to me _often _since we met, you didn't get outside of America much as you were growing up. I get out and about a bit more, though I'm more of a seafarer, I must admit. But our two kingdoms don't get along much, so it's no wonder we haven't run into each other on diplomatic missions."

"I'll change that."

Arthur stopped eating and looked up again. "Change what?"

"Our kingdoms not being friends. When I'm king, we'll make sure England and America are really good allies. …Won't we?"

He'd thought it was a grand idea when he blurted it out. Why shouldn't it be: having another ally was always a good idea, and it was a good way to make it up to Arthur for their first, disastrous, meeting. _Plus_ the two princes were friends now so it shouldn't be hard.

But seeing Arthur's wide-eyed stare through the flickering orange flames, Alfred choked. Maybe Arthur didn't think they were friends. Maybe this was nothing to him – meeting and travelling with someone he'd picked up on the road. It was a big deal to Alfred, of course: it was his first time out of the kingdom on his own, his first time finding a companion who wasn't someone his parents had picked out for him at court. But as Arthur had said, he'd got out and travelled a lot more. Maybe Alfred didn't mean much to him at all – some immature, selfish American prince who, Alfred had to admit, hadn't known how to do anything for himself on an adventure until Arthur showed him.

They stared at each other for some time, Alfred feeling incredibly awkward and embarrassed and trying to figure out what exact laugh would take it all back as a joke.

But then Arthur looked away and, once again, Alfred didn't know whether to blame the fire's glow or a blush for the red he thought he saw on the other man's cheeks.

"Well, it's not that easy, but…I suppose we can work something out. That would…be nice, actually."

It _was_ probably just the fire, since Arthur was scowling away at the dark forest and avoiding eye contact. But Alfred thought he knew the English prince a little better by now, and didn't feel it would be unwelcome for him to voice something he'd wanted to say for a while.

"I'm really glad I met you, Artie," he said, half to embarrass the stuffy Englishman and half to get it off his chest. "I mean, met you _properly_. You're my first real friend, you know? The first person I got to meet and know and like just on my own, without my parents picking them for me." This time, he was sure Arthur was blushing. "I know you probably have loads of friends 'cause you travel so much, but I just want you to know you…uh…" He trailed off, and looked down at his half-finished stew, prodding at the potato and vegetable pieces awkwardly.

"Are you going to finish that sentence or not?" Arthur barked.

"Uh! Well, I was gonna say 'you mean a lot to me' but then I thought that sounded kinda gay, so…I didn't. But yeah…that."

"Well, since you admitted something so…ridiculous to me," Arthur said, trying to sound huffy, as if he were just saying this to appease the American's childish whim, "I suppose I can say that…I actually don't have that many friends. Close friends, anyway. So…I'm glad I met you, too. The…52nd time, or whatever it was."

Alfred laughed. He laughed a lot, but this time felt more joyful, more like a release of happiness than any laugh he could ever remember.

When he opened his eyes, he looked across the fire pit and saw Arthur smiling along with him. And then the laughter choked and strangled in his throat as some other, unidentifiable emotion constricted his chest. Something very strong.

Something that had never been there before.

"I can't have true love's first kiss!"

Arthur stared.

Alfred stared.

Oh, had _he_ just said that?

His mother had told him he tended to just blurt things out during awkward silences, to ease the tension.

"You…what?"

Alfred gulped. "Um, that's my curse. Some princess when I was 16 wanted to get betrothed but I was like no, so she got her fairy godmother to put a curse on me 'cause she said she was all broken hearted, but I barely knew her! We'd talked at _one_ ball, and then she just went full on stalker! Her fairy godmother needs to take step back and see that her princess is a total whack job! And I don't even know how the curse works! Will my true love, like, explode if I try to kiss them? Will we just not be able to touch? I was warned it would have terrible consequences but I don't know how – "

"Alfred!"

His mother had also told him he tended to ramble. He should really work on these things.

Arthur was suddenly sitting next to him on his log, and then even more suddenly putting his hand over Alfred's and patting it reassuringly. Everything was happening so fast! Alfred couldn't remember how to breathe. Why couldn't he remember how to breathe?! Was he sick? Had he eaten something? Had Arthur done something to the cooking while his back was turned?!

"I'm sorry to hear about your curse, Alfred," Arthur said, not coddling or indulging the other's panic, but just using his usual stiff voice as if nothing were out of the ordinary. It soothed Alfred and stopping his fidgeting. "Now, don't worry, it'll be all right."

"You think?"

"Yes, actually. You know, one of the things _I_ heard about the princess is that she will only grant her wish to someone with a completely selfless request. If that's true, then I would say you are a good contender."

"_Me_?! But my wish is totally selfish. I _want_ to have true love's kiss, after all."

When he turned his head to make his point to Arthur with a serious face, he suddenly realised how close the two of them were together. He practically fell backwards off the log as he scrambled to put some distance between them.

"It's better than _my_ wish, anyway," Arthur grumbled, ignoring Alfred's awkwardness as moroseness overtook him. He rested his elbows on his knees, chin leaning in his hands, and gazed glumly into the fire.

"Why?" Alfred asked, suitably curious to ignore his emotional swings now. "What's _your_ wish?"

"Well…to be honest…I'm only a half prince," Arthur mumbled. "I'm surprised you haven't heard about it; everyone's always talking and joking about it behind my back. The other kingdoms sometimes barely recognise me as royalty, and it's even worse in England...My father and my brothers just shun me as a bastard child, send me off on ridiculous adventures and don't give me any responsibility. But it's not the royal duties I really care about: I don't even feel like one of the family…"

Alfred could only stare at Arthur as he spoke, marvelling at how entirely different their lives were. Him wishing to get out more, and Arthur being forced to do so. It was a funny old world.

"It's a selfish wish," Arthur continued. "I just want my family to stop being bastards to me, because I've never found a way to make them proud on my own. I'm pathetic…"

"Arthur…" Alfred said, reaching out to be the one to take Arthur's hand this time. "You're not pathetic. You're the most _un_pathetic person I've ever met. And that's not a selfish wish, to want your family to be happy together. It's for the good of your family _and_ the whole kingdom, right? I think…I think if your family don't appreciate you then…well, that's _their_ problem. Because you're...uh…"

He trailed off, losing himself completely in the pattern of flickering flames inside Arthur's sparkling green eyes, and forgetting what he had been going to say.

"Indescribable, apparently," smiled Arthur, when Alfred trailed off.

The American prince was snapped out of his daze. "Well, I was gonna say 'pretty cool', but sure, why not?" he grinned.

They chuckled to themselves, Alfred wondering if he should feel this awkward and nervous (and excited) for some reason, and hoping it was just him. (And yet, somehow hoping Arthur felt it, too.)

It was kind of exhausting, and Alfred was tired of thinking about it, so he decided it was time for bed. The two princes tidied up their dinnerware, snuggled into their blankets, and settled down on opposite sides of the fire for a good night's sleep.

Whilst Hero and Wistful spent most of the night banging their heads against a tree and despairing over their stupid, blind, oblivious owners…


	5. Chapter 5: Can You Feel the Love Tonight

Chapter Five

Can You Feel the Love Tonight

Prince Alfred did his best thinking in his sleep. So even though he spent a few minutes tossing and turning in his make-shift bed that night, worrying about why he felt so odd around Arthur recently, he knew the best course of action was to fall asleep – because when he woke up in the morning, he'd know just what to do.

And sure enough, when the sunrise pierced his eyelids the following morning, he stretched and smiled happily – a brilliant plan already formed in his mind.

A plan he actually couldn't wait to put into action.

See, the way Alfred figured it, the reason he was feeling all…"tingly" around Arthur is because he never gets out of the kingdom. As he'd told Arthur, it meant he didn't make a lot of friends; but it also meant that he had no experience with romance (yes, he admitted it: he was starting to _like_ Arthur that way). Obviously, he had girls shoved under his nose at balls every now and again, but he'd never been interested – probably because his subconscious was telling him he could only possibly fall in love with someone on a fairy tale quest. Also, his parents staring at him every time he talked to a girl – nodding and urging him on and practically counting the heirs on their fingers – was kind of a turn-off.

So, the thing was, Alfred never got to try out all that flirting and courting stuff on his own terms. It was all being saved up for his fairy tale quest. So his first time _on_ a quest and he meets someone new and interesting, and his body and mind are fooled into thinking this is _it – _this is _the one_. When really, it's just all being aimed at the wrong person. Just an accident, a mistake, an issue of his feelings being misguided.

So, obviously the best course of action was to flirt with Arthur all day.

Don't get him wrong, it wasn't to try and win Arthur around or anything. Obviously, he just needed to train his traitorous body and mind into understanding that his romantic feelings were _his_, Alfred's, and he had control over them. He could flirt with whomever he wanted and not have to fall in love with them. So if he flirted with Arthur, he'd get that practice which he'd been missing his whole life, and then his body and mind wouldn't think they needed the first person who came along.

Plus, practising flirting would mean he could win round this magical princess when they met soon! It was like killing two birds with one stone – the best kind of plan there is!

That was why, instead of lazing around the campsite as the sun rose and letting Arthur do most of the work, Alfred sprang into action.

Arthur was still sleeping (which was very unusual; perhaps he'd had trouble falling asleep) so Alfred quickly got dressed and washed using the little water bucket he'd fetched the night before. Then he set about making the fire and cooking their breakfast, so that by the time Arthur woke up, he'd be able to give him breakfast in bed.

That was flirting, right? Or was he getting a little ahead of himself? Damn, he really didn't know what he was doing! Thank God he'd come up with this plan – he really needed the practise.

He was just wondering whether he should _ask_ Arthur about how to flirt, when the other prince began to stir.

For some reason, Alfred didn't call out a cheery "Good morning!" like he usually did. Instead, he kept quiet so he could watch Arthur emerge from his blanket while the other prince was unawares.

Arthur sat up slowly, the blanket slipping down his torso to pool at his waist. He'd slept in some warm clothes, so Alfred didn't get a look at his body (not that he wanted to!) but the American prince was content to admire Arthur's scruffy bed-head. His hear was messy at the best of times, but in the morning – wow. Hairs were sticking out in every possible direction, it looked so fluffy and tousled and Alfred felt a desperate urge to hug the English prince and coo over how adorable he was.

…He needed to flirt _fast_ to get this misguided emotion out of his system!

Arthur rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, yawned, and then pulled his arms over his head to stretch them up into the sun beams shining through the treetops into their camp. As he stretched up high, his shirt rode up, exposing the creamy, smooth-looking skin of his stomach. That was when Alfred thought that as cute as Arthur's morning-hair was, he actually _did_ want to see a bit of skin…

As Alfred was lost in this thought (halfway through examining it and trying to push it away) Arthur finally looked over and saw him.

"What?" he asked grouchily, as Alfred had come to expect of him in the mornings. "Why are you staring at me, ruddy tosser? You making fun of…of…"

The effect of his languid anger was broken when he trailed off into a huge yawn. Alfred smiled fondly to himself.

As Arthur lowered his hands from covering his yawn (polite as ever) Alfred had an idea for his first flirt of the day.

He went over to Arthur, kneeling down beside him, and reached out gently. Arthur stared, confused and sleepy enough to do nothing as Alfred cupped his face and traced his thumbs over Arthur's fuzzy eyebrows, mussed from sleep.

Arthur was gazing up into Alfred's eyes, but Alfred looked pointedly at the eyebrows, trying to ignore that bright green he could see at the bottom of his vision.

"There you go. All better," he said, still stroking Arthur's eyebrows and holding his face gently. "Not that there's ever anything wrong with your eyebrows. They always look cute."

He really wanted to add "just like you", but thought that might be too far. See: he was actually _trying_ to learn. This wasn't all fun and games.

Arthur blushed bright red at any part of him being called cute, and jerked his head out of Alfred's grip, shoving the American prince away.

"They are _not_," Arthur huffed. "I take that as an insult. My eyebrows are far more than just 'cute': they're regal."

Alfred chuckled, heading back to his cooking to serve up their breakfast.

"You can be cute _and_ regal. That's possible."

"Well, what if I don't _want_ to be cute?" Arthur crossed his arms, now in a full on strop. "Like some baby animal. _Honestly_!"

"Well, too bad," Alfred smiled.

He knelt down beside Arthur again, holding out a plate of bacon and eggs. But Arthur was busy staring at him again, right into his eyes, not knowing how dangerous that was, trying to figure out if Alfred was saying what he _thought_ he was saying.

Alfred smiled at him, trying to contain his bubbling glee at how well this flirting was going.

"Eat up," he said, nudging the pate forwards. "Got a long way to go today if we want to get ahead of those German princes we met at the tavern the other day."

Arthur blushed and looked away, embarrassed for thinking that Alfred might have been calling him cute. He was talking about his eyebrows; probably didn't even mean it anyway, just trying to tease him. He took the plate with a quiet 'thank you', and they began to eat.

The rest of the day carried on in much the same fashion: Alfred being charming and chivalrous and saying things about Arthur that the other prince didn't quite know how to take, and inwardly jumping for joy every time Arthur's eyes widened or he bushed and looked away.

As evening fell, they decided to stop and make camp.

As soon as Arthur pointed out a nice clearing by a little pond of water which would be a good spot for the night, Alfred practically threw himself off of Hero's back and raced to stand beside Wistful, practically bouncing in place in excitement.

"What do you want?" Arthur asked suspiciously, looking down at Alfred from atop his black stallion.

In answer, Alfred held out his arms, offering to help him out of the saddle. Arthur rolled his eyes. Why would he need Alfred's help – it wasn't like he hadn't managed perfectly well to dismount his stallion countless times already.

But Alfred had been acting very strangely today, and Arthur was tired of questioning it. Better just indulge him one last time. And if he carried on this weird behaviour tomorrow then Arthur would do something about it.

He slipped out of the saddle, sliding gracefully into Alfred's waiting arms.

But, somehow, Alfred's eyes caught Arthur more than his arms, and he couldn't quite seem to move away.

After about five minutes of the princes still standing there gazing into each other's eyes – Alfred holding Arthur's waist, and Arthur's hands on Alfred's firm biceps – Hero and Wistful grew bored and wandered off to drink at the pond. This was a little mushy even for _them_.

"Uh…hi," said Alfred, voice not knowing whether it wanted to be embarrassingly high or breathy, or quit all together.

Arthur stared up at him for another 4 seconds, then wrenched himself away and stormed off to begin vigorously setting up camp, like there was nothing else in the world to focus on but getting his bed ready.

Alfred took a deep breath – and then a few more because one wasn't enough – and began sorting out their dinner.

_Well, that was weird_, he mused to himself. All day he'd been flirting and it was so fun because it was a joke. Now suddenly night falls and the fake emotions just…become real?

It was something about the sun going down, he thought. The end of the day, the time for play being over: it made the flirting seem genuine now. Night time was for lovers, and having Arthur in his arms had just made the feelings Alfred was toying with seem very real. Even though they definitely weren't.

…Even though Alfred had really liked having Arthur there in his arms. Not even hugging, just being close. He'd felt restless his whole life, always impatient for something new, to get up and keep going. But that moment, it was enough for him to just be there, with Arthur, to be in sync with someone else for the first time in his life and just let the world turn around them.

The two princes moved about the campsite in almost complete silence, both a little disturbed and churned up after that strange moment in each other's arms. But finally, Arthur couldn't pretend he had anything else to do: his bed had been straightened till he was sick of looking at it, he'd repacked his bag, he'd collected enough firewood to last a week, and Wistful was perfectly groomed. Now he had no choice but to go and sit by the fire with Alfred.

"According to the information we collected…I think we're nearly at the princess's tower…"

Alfred felt his heart stop.

It wasn't just the mention that his quest was nearly over, or even that his time with Arthur was almost at an end.

It was the fact that he'd completely forgotten about the princess.

Ever since they'd left camp this morning, he'd forgotten why he was supposed to be flirting with Arthur – that flimsy excuse about practising to win over the princess and train himself not to just fall for any eligible person he meets. He'd just been flirting because…well, because it was Arthur. Because he wanted Arthur to notice him, and blush at him, and smile at him, and be close to him, and want him back.

He felt so stupid. So disappointed in himself for getting carried away. He was supposed to be on a quest to save a princess; that was his _destiny_. All his life he'd been waiting for this, and here he was letting himself fail at the final hurdle. Letting himself think that some random prince he met could be more important than completing his fairy tale quest.

That just wasn't him. Prince Alfred F. Jones did not fail. He did not get sidetracked on his quest, and he did not disappoint anyone – least of all himself. He had not waited all his life to go on this quest, to fulfil his destiny, only to choose something else at the last minute.

So Alfred decided to put an end to all this stupidity before it went too far. And the best way to do it was to come clean, as he should have done this morning.

"Great," he said, forgetting to pretend to sound excited. "So, how was my flirting? I've been practising all day to win over the princess."

He knew he shouldn't have looked at the English prince as he said that, but he did. And what he saw tore at his heart until he wondered if he was actually making the right decision – destiny or no destiny.

Arthur's face fell. He stared at him, a look of complete hurt and betrayal flooding his eyes until it looked they might start overflowing. Alfred had never really considered the fact that Arthur might like him back, but he sure considered it now.

And that was dangerous. The only way to really put at an end to this, once and for all, was to babble: be a complete dick so that Arthur didn't think he liked him after all and he'd get over it quickly.

"I mean, if we both show up at the same time, and she thinks we both have selfless wishes, then I'll need to win her over from you. Shouldn't be too hard, right? I'm American: I win by default. Plus, I'm way hotter than you, and better at flirting."

Alfred watched as Arthur's expression changed slowly, mechanically – he could almost see the gears working hard behind it to pull everything in place. His mouth turned down, eyes narrowed, regal eyebrows furrowing and freckled nose wrinkling.

Arthur was furious. And he was going to get his own back on Alfred by showing him up at everything the American thought he was so good at – make him lose confidence and prove he was nothing, and would never win that princess in a million years.

"First of all, the Kingdom of England has a far richer history than America. If a princess wants to marry a prince for status, she'd choose an Englishman in a heartbeat. Second of all, appearance is a matter of taste. Yes, if she likes blonde bimbos who need to exercise ten hours a day to keep the flab off she might choose you, but if she likes handsome, stylish foxes then I really have no competition. And finally…you really call that _flirting_? I didn't even notice. But what more can I expect from a child playing pretend at being a hero?"

Alfred's jaw had dropped some time ago, and his heart plummeted down into his shoes at Arthur's calm, but vicious speech. He felt like he was about to burst into tears.

And that was when he realised: Arthur was actually the villain in this fairy tale quest!

Of course! It all made sense now! That was why Alfred found him so appealing, why he was so tempted by him, why he and Arthur made friends so easily! Arthur had planned it all along, to trick him into failing his quest.

Well, Alfred knew how to handle villains: beat them at their own game.

He smirked. "Nice try, Artie, but heroes don't fall for cowardly tactics like nasty words. Nobody could resist me, and you know it."

Arthur slunk in next to him, pressing himself up against Alfred's side. Alfred tensed. "I bet _I_ could. And what's more, I could make _you_ fall for _me_." He traced a finger up Alfred's leg and arm, clutching him around the elbow lightly, although to Alfred it felt like a trail of fire where Arthur touched.

Alfred stared down into those poisonous green eyes, mouth opening and closing of its own accord, and a blush spreading across his face.

Suddenly, Arthur began to smile. Not a wicked, villain's grin either: an honest, happy Arthur smile. Then he started laughing.

And Alfred relaxed, body practically melting after the tension.

Of course Arthur was no villain – tricking him into thinking they were friends and seducing him in secret. A hero like Alfred would never fall for dirty tricks like that. And besides, Arthur would never try them anyway. Arthur was a good guy – like him.

Alfred joined in the laughter, both of them bent over double and tears running down their faces at their stupidity and the ridiculous tension and adrenaline of a few moments ago.

"Oh, God. I tried," Arthur laughed, gripping his knees to keep from collapsing in hysterics. "But your face! Hahaha!"

They sat up, still giggling stupidly, and smiled at each other – everything forgiven.

And Alfred didn't really think about it as he reached out and wiped some laughter tears from Arthur's red cheeks. He didn't think how stupid or dangerous it was to his destiny and his fairy tale quest to keep stroking the other prince's soft skin, and gaze into those warm green eyes without trying to hide anything his own eyes might be reflecting back.

He didn't really think of anything as they both leaned in, except how much he wanted to kiss Arthur.


	6. Chapter 6: I Won't Say

Chapter Six

I Won't Say

It was the horses who saw the danger of what the two princes were about to do. They were each other's true love – it may not have been obvious to the stupid, exasperating humans, but it was clear to the stallions. But Alfred couldn't kiss his true love or something terrible would happen!

Wistful reared up on his hind legs in distress and neighed loudly; Hero raced over to the fire, head butting Alfred and pushing him off the log and away from Arthur.

The two princes were suddenly brought back to reality, away from each other's lips – and a wave of embarrassment washed over them.

"W-W-Wistful! What's wrong, old boy?" asked Arthur, hurrying over to his stallion – more to get away from Alfred the suddenly awkward atmosphere than anything else.

Alfred, meanwhile, patted Hero's nose absent-mindedly, staring dazed, and rather forlornly, into the fire.

Eventually, he remembered the bubbling soup and started ladling it out.

"Arthur…grubs up."

"Thanks…"

Their fingers touched as Alfred passed over the other's bowl of soup and their eyes met for a moment. And suddenly Alfred didn't care how awkward it was, he just had to say something.

"I…I'm sorry, Artie. I wasn't thinking," said Alfred, trying to apologise for having to put an abrupt to the moment because of the curse. "It's not that I don't – "

"It's quite alright," Arthur said quickly, trying to apologise for the near kiss happening at all. The prince planted himself on the log and shovelling the soup into his mouth – obviously ready to get to bed as soon as possible. "It was just a mistake – no need to go on about it."

"Yeah. It's probably best if we don't…continue – what with the curse and all."

Arthur flailed spectacularly, his spoon somersaulting in the air and his hands grabbing at it uselessly before it clattered into his bowl, splashing soup all over his night clothes.

Alfred watched in confusion until he saw Arthur's bright red face, and realised what he'd just implied. "Not that I think you're my true love or anything!" he exclaimed hurriedly. "You know! It's just…kissing…I don't know what would happen…with anyone…And it's not like I even _want_ to kiss you anyway!" Alfred mentally slapped himself for being such a pre-teen about this…

"Of course. Naturally. We were just being silly," Arthur said briskly, patting the soup on his clothes.

'_Being silly_.'

Possibly the lamest excuse they could have come up with for nearly kissing. But in reality, there was no excuse but the truth – the fact that they _wanted_ to do it.

And Alfred would take a lame excuse over none at all. (Or, worse, the truth.)

"Right…Silly…"

Arthur sighed in exasperation at his stained coat – his frantic rubbing only having made it worse. "Ugh. And this is my only clean top."

"Do you want something of mine to wear?"

They both froze at Alfred's bold suggestion.

"…All right."

The clothes were taken out of Alfred's bag and passed over in grave silence, like it was some grand, formal ceremony. Arthur went to the pond to change, and Alfred tidied up the food, stoking the fire to make it last the whole night through.

He heard a snap of twig behind and turned instinctively.

And there was Arthur, stepping into the warm glow of the firelight, wearing Alfred's tunic. It was loose and comfortable on Alfred, and so practically swamped the lithe, slender Englishman. The sleeves fell below his hands, and Arthur was fiddling with them, trying to fold them back. The hem reached tantalisingly around Arthur's upper legs and even though he was wearing some baggy trousers, Alfred still found himself gulping.

Arthur looked up, and must have been surprised and embarrassed at the expression on Alfred's staring face – Alfred didn't even want to _think_ about what emotion must be written all over him – and looked away, flushed.

"Arthur."

Arthur froze on his way to his blankets, but didn't meet Alfred's gaze.

"I…When we find the princess, I want you to make _your_ wish. It doesn't matter about me."

Arthur frowned in confusion, and finally looked over at the American prince, who was gazing earnestly at him from his place on the log by the fire.

Arthur sighed sadly and went to sit next to him, but kept enough distance that they wouldn't have any "silly" mistakes, like earlier.

"What are you on about, Alfred?"

"Your wish is more important than mine."

"I – " Arthur began, but Alfred clapped a hand over his mouth and continued.

"My curse doesn't affect me every day, but yours _does_. And you've been suffering way longer than I have. I got my curse when I was 16 and I didn't care about kissing anyone until I met – uh, I mean, you know, until I got a bit older," he recovered, pathetically. "And even now, I don't really care that bad. But _you've_ been living with this since you were born. It's not fair."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "And some hormonal, jealous teenage girl putting a curse on you – that's fair is it?"

"Well, no, but – "

"Everything I've heard tells me this princess only gives _one_ wish," Arthur lectured. "And I've heard many things about how to get it, and I know you have, too – true love, marriage, and whatnot. But the story about her only granting a selfless wish – that's the most popular rumour. And if that's the case, it can only be _you_, Alfred. My wish is utterly selfish, but you…you're trying to right a wrong that was completely unjust."

"And you trying to get your family to accept you isn't a good enough wish?" Alfred retorted, so fierce that Arthur leaned away. "I don't care if this princess does only want to grant a selfless wish – it's not fair that your family ignore you, either! I don't care if your wish only helps you, you deserve it! I'll _make_ her give you your wish!"

"Alfred – "

"Besides, my wish has already been granted."

Arthur blinked, taken aback. "W-what?"

Alfred took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down so he might, for once, be able to explain how he felt. "I may not be able to have true love's kiss; that curse is still there.

"But my whole life…trapped in one place, watching the best days of my youth waste away before me, forced to do boring tasks over and over until I can walk properly like a prince and use the right knives and forks at dinner with stuck-up rich people…If you ask me, _that_ was the curse. All I ever wanted was to get out and go on a quest and meet someone special. And as far as I'm concerned…I've done that."

Arthur took a few quick breaths in time with his fluttering heart. He knew Alfred didn't exactly mean "someone special" in a true love kind of way – but it still meant a lot that he considered Arthur so important to him after such a short time. If Arthur were honest – and he was finally starting to be truthful to himself in his own mind – he felt the same about Alfred.

"Why don't we just see when we get there?" the English prince said, diplomatically – refusing to argue about it now, and fully intending to bully Alfred into making the wish for himself. "Why don't we let the princess decide, hm? We should make it to her tower tomorrow. We just make a right at that fork in the road we saw before setting up camp, and then straight on from there."

Alfred pouted, not satisfied that he had convinced Arthur at all. He knew the English prince would put a fight on this issue until the very end.

Which is why, as soon as he heard deep, even breathing coming from the sleeping figure nearby, Alfred got up and changed in silence, crept over to Hero, and stole away into the night towards the princess' tower.


	7. Chapter 7: Once Upon a Dream

Chapter Seven

Once Upon a Dream

The night was bright, with a full, milky moon gently shining down and turning the world around him blue. Looking up, Alfred could see countless sparkling stars decorating the sky – so much more magnificent than the ceiling of his bedroom at home.

He'd asked for his bedroom to be painted like the night sky, because at night he was finally allowed a few moments to himself. All day long he would be scolded for goofing off and daydreaming – but at night it was allowed. He could lay in bed, look up at the fake starry sky, and picture the day, one day, when he would be out on his grand quest – when he'd be looking up at the real stars, out in the wild, in the fresh air, no stupid royal lessons to do tomorrow, proving himself as a true prince, just him and Hero…

And now that day was today.

It was almost like this day was part of that daydream from long ago.

Only now…Well, his grand adventure, his dream, had turned out to be very different than he'd thought it would be.

Or rather, _he_ was very different and wanted very different things than he had thought he would.

He was still riding out into the wilderness to save someone. Someone he might even love. Maybe even in _that_ way.

But it wasn't a damsel in distress: it was someone who could probably rescue themselves without his help. Alfred just wanted to do everything he could for that person, anyway.

And he wasn't just doing this to prove that he was as good as those fairy-tale princes anymore. He actually _needed_ to save someone.

What was more, he wouldn't be able to come back to America with thrilling tales of daring and danger to make his kingdom proud. He'd always imagined being hailed as a hero – a king who was both wise and super cool – but what story would he tell them when he got home now? That he'd placed someone else's dream above his own, abandoned his long-awaited quest to help them, instead, and came home empty-handed?

And yet, Alfred couldn't find it in himself to change his mind, or even question his decision. This was absolutely the _right_ thing to do, the thing he _wanted_ to do, and the thing he _would_ do. It was very rare that all those things coincided, so he knew it was his destiny.

So Alfred urged Hero to pick up the pace, and the two carried on through the open grassland.

But suddenly, Hero jerked to a stop.

"Woah, boy! What's up?" asked Alfred, startled. He leant forward and patted his stallion's mane.

Hero's head turned to look out across the grassy fields, off to their left behind them. His ears twitched in concentration, and he ignored Alfred's hand on his mane.

The night was so still and quiet for a minute that Alfred heard the noise that had attracted Hero's attention. Off in the distance, a horse's whinny sounded – carried on the night breeze towards them from far away, back the way they had come.

Hero reared up so fast that Alfred had to cling on for dear life, almost thrown backwards out of the saddle. The stallion whinnied in response to the other horse, whirled around, and galloped off across the fields.

All Alfred could do was hang on. It was like the time he and Arthur had properly met – when Hero just dashed off into the forest, ignoring all Alfred's shouts and commands. There was no stopping him.

As he crouched close to Hero's neck, watching their path turn from open field back into the forest from which they'd come, Alfred had a sudden thought. Had that far away whiny been from Wistful? Was Arthur in trouble?!

Suddenly, he was urging Hero on even more, kicking him with his heels, ignoring the branches and stray twigs whipping at his face and tearing at his clothes.

The two American adventurers were so intent on their gallop that they almost crashed headfirst into their targets.

"BLOODY HELL! Wha –ALFRED?!"

Reigning Hero in to a halt, Alfred finally had time to take in the situation.

And for some reason, found Arthur sitting there atop Wistful, very much not where Alfred had left him sleeping in the small clearing half an hour ago. In fact, he was fully dressed, wide awake, and clearly on the road travelling somewhere.

"What are you _doing_ here?" Alfred demanded in frustration. And then, remembering the whinny that had caught Hero's attention, he suddenly turned concerned. "Are you hurt? Is there trouble? Is everything okay?"

Arthur stared at him. "…I'm fine. Why did you come all the way back just to check if things were okay?"

"Hero heard Wistful and we thought you guys me be in danger…or something…"

He trailed off because of the scowl slowly clouding over Arthur's face. Alfred knew it was foolish to imply Arthur couldn't take care of himself – he was much more experienced at real life adventures than Alfred was.

"We're perfectly fine, I assure you."

"Oh. Good."

There were a few moments of silence, Arthur growing increasingly nervous and embarrassed as a look of confusion and suspicion slowly dawned over Alfred's face.

"Then what _are_ you doing out here?" Alfred questioned. Arthur shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. "You were all asleep; if there's no danger, why are you up travelling? Hang on…Did you take the _left_ path in that fork in the road?"

"Um, yes. I woke up and saw that you and Hero weren't there. So I got ready to follow you – you know, to help out? Not that you _need_ my help because you can manage perfectly well on your own, but it's always wise to have back up, right? I mean, not wise. Heroic. Heroes always have backup. …Right? Alfred?"

Alfred narrowed his eyes at the rambling English prince. Arthur never indulged Alfred by calling him a hero. He wouldn't have followed him just to be back-up, either. And he'd taken the _left_ fork in the road, after telling Alfred to go _right_…

"You tricked me!" Alfred exclaimed.

Arthur shrank down in his saddle, looking guilty and ashamed, and Alfred suddenly had a very clear mental image of how _he_ must have looked doing that as a child. In fact, this must be the default image everyone in the palace had of him, it was so common.

"You told me to go _right_," Alfred continued, too excited about having solved a mystery single-handedly to be truly angry right now. "Because you knew I would get up in the middle of the night to get a head start finding the princess so I could ask for your wish. And you didn't _want_ me to get to her first and make your wish. So it was actually the _left_ fork we're supposed to take! And you waited for me to sneak out and go the wrong way, and then set off on your _own_, so you could get to the princess first and get her to grant you _my_ wish. Well! Of all the sneaky, selfish, no-good…"

He forgot what he was saying as he realised that, actually, what Arthur had done wasn't really selfish at all. It may have been sneaky and no-good, and would made Alfred hopelessly lost from following the wrong path all night – but Arthur was just doing it to help him.

Still, Alfred felt cheated for having nearly missed out on finishing his grand quest to save Arthur.

He huffed in frustration, watching Arthur fidget awkwardly and await more yelling from the American prince.

"Look, enough of these tricks," Alfred said firmly. Arthur looked up at him hopefully. "Let's just get to the princess and ask _her_ to choose which wish she likes best. It might not even be either of us, right? Maybe neither of us has a truly selfless wish."

After all, he _wanted_ Arthur to be happy, so wishing for Arthur's wish to come true would be serving Alfred in the end, just as much as wishing for his own curse to break.

There really was no way to win…

"Alright," said Arthur, finally sitting up straight and looking a bit more like himself and less like a guilty child. "I _am_ sorry, Alfred. …Maybe if you weren't so predictable it wouldn't have worked."

"Oh, how _dare_ you?!"

Arthur flinched at Alfred's shout, wondering if he'd gone too far. Perhaps his little trick broken their friendship, and they couldn't jokingly insult each other as they had before.

But when he looked over at Alfred to gauge how mad he really was, the American was smiling at him, all the way to his sparkling eyes that reflected the starlight above.

At Arthur's relieved smile, Alfred laughed his loud, boisterous, Alfred laugh.

"Excusez-moi!"

The two princes jumped, startled, and looked around for the new voice.

"Zut alors…Up here, you – !"

The voice cut off in surprise as Alfred and Arthur looked over at the tower peeking just above the tree tops ahead them, unseen until now during the heat of their argument.

Leaning out the window of the tower was a beautiful woman, her milky skin practically glowing in the moonlight, and long waves of golden hair falling over the shoulders of her silky nightgown.

"Oh la la! Quelle surprise! Such handsome young men, both of you! And to think I was about to yell at you for shouting and waking me up! But no, it's a treat! Won't you come in, boys? You must be tired from travelling all night. Meet me downstairs, tout de suite!"

Alfred and Arthur remained staring at the empty window several moments are the woman had gone. Finally, they turned to look at each other, and make sure they'd both just seen the same thing.

"A French woman? I've been hunting down a bloody _FROG_ princess?!"


	8. Chapter 8: Someday My Prince Will Come

Chapter Eight

Someday My Prince Will Come

"You think that's the princess?" Alfred asked in surprise. He'd been too taken aback at having a scantily clad woman invite him into her home in the middle of the night to wonder if she was the princess for whom they'd been searching.

"Let's go and find out," Arthur muttered grimly, directing Wistful towards the tower through the trees.

The tower was attached to a small, quaint cottage. It didn't really look like a prison, so what was _keeping_ the princess locked away there and needing to be rescued was a mystery to Alfred.

The French woman was standing at the door waiting for them, her dressing gown open to reveal the ridiculously tiny and lacy negligée underneath. Alfred quickly looked away, but realised this lady must be very rich to own sleepwear of such good quality. Much richer than her humble home led passersby to believe, anyway. Perhaps she really _was_ the princess.

"Bon soir!" the lady greeted in a lively sing-song voice, as Alfred and Arthur dismounted. "What are you doing so far away from any civilisation? Dare I hope you were looking for little old me?"

Arthur glared, having taken an instant dislike to the prissy woman at the first whiff of her accent. Even to Alfred, who didn't care much about politics between other kingdoms, it was well known that the kingdoms of England and France hated each other with a long and petty passion.

"You're the princess who grants wishes, I take it?" Arthur growled.

"Mais oui, bien sur," the woman smiled pompously, flicking her long hair dramatically over her shoulder. "I am Princess Francoise, of the Kingdom of France. It's a pleasure to meet two such handsome young men. At night. Alone. While I'm in my negligee. And so very vulnerable…"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness," Alfred blurted out, before she could continue. He bowed – putting all those years of boring lessons to god use as he turned on his royal charm. "I'm Prince Alfred, from the Kingdom of America. And this is Prince Arthur – "

"Of England," Francoise interrupted. "Yes, it is rather obvious. I would recognise the Kirkland family eyebrows anywhere."

"_Why you_ – "

Alfred quickly stepped in front of Arthur and shoved him backwards.

"If you don't mind me asking, Your Highness – "

"Oh, please! Call me Francoise!" laughed the princess, waving her hand blithely in the air. "And come in, come _in_. Don't make me ask you _again_."

The two princes stepped gingerly into Francoise's cottage, leaving Hero and Wistful to wait outside.

The stallions weren't too happy about this. For weeks now they'd been pushing the two princes together – even when the two humans hated each other – and they'd been getting _so_ close! But now, at the final hurdle, they had to wait _outside_ and hope for the best?! Hero and Wistful silently debated whether or not their oblivious owners would make the right decisions and come to the right realisations without their help.

It was not looking good…

Knowing he just couldn't sit back and wait, Wistful trotted over to the house and nosed open one kitchen window, and then another. Hero joined him, and the two stallions poked their heads into the kitchen and watched the climax of all their hard work unfold.

Inside the homely little kitchen, the princes were standing close together awkwardly, being eyed up very obviously by the princess.

"Francoise, is it – " Alfred tried again.

"May I offer you some coffee? But, it is rather late…Perhaps some wine?"

"Um, maybe in a minute. I was just wondering if you could tell us – "

"But I must offer you _some_thing! A pastry perhaps? I could whip up a little cake in no time, I assure you!"

"No, it's fine, really. I just wanted to ask – "

"Oh, but of course! You must be tired! What were you doing out on the road so late? No, no – you can tell me in the morning. Why not come up and I'll tuck you into in to a nice, warm bed, hm? Some of us might have to double up, though."

"OI!"

Francoise deflated. The inviting smile melted from her face and was replaced by a scowl as she turned to Arthur.

"Yes? Prince Arthur?" she asked scathingly.

"_Stop_ changing the subject, and let Alfred get a word in, won't you."

Francoise turned to Alfred, looking strangely intimidating for a woman wearing very little standing in the cold kitchen of an old stone cottage.

"Um…I was just wondering…do you really grant wishes?"

"I do." Francoise had lost her happy, lively attitude, and suddenly looked practically murderous.

But Alfred and Arthur perked up. "Awesome! We've been looking for you for weeks! We heard a lot of different things about your wish. Like do we have to marry you, fall in love with you, rescue you, have a selfless wish or…what?"

Francoise's scowl deepened, giving even Arthur's best glare a good run for its money.

"And people wonder why I ran away to live in the forest," she sighed in frustration.

The two princes lost their train of thought, and just blinked stupidly at her.

"What?" asked Alfred, head tilting to the side in confusion. "Ran away?"

"The wish is truly a curse, I assure you."

Francoise sighed dramatically again and leant against the table dejectedly, ready to tell her tale.

"A year ago I had a suitor: a despicable man, who had such terrible plans of what he would do if he came in to power at my side. Naturally, I refused to marry him. The problem is that I had also refused to marry…well, everyone. Many people have tried to court me in my life – I mean, _look_ at me – but I…well, I know it's a foolish thing to hope for when you're royalty but…my whole life, I have been waiting for true love." The princess's eyes practically started glowing as she talked about her passion, eyes lighting up even in the darkened kitchen, with only the moonbeams spilling through the windows as light. "Ah, true love. It is my raison d'être! The most beautiful thing in the world! How I envy the commoners who have this freedom, where it really counts. I would trade all my riches and power and future if I could just have this."

Alfred and Arthur caught themselves glancing at each other out of the corners of their eyes, and quickly looked away, pretending it hadn't happened.

"But, alas, as a princess I will surely be forced to marry against my will, for no other reason than to uphold my family's reputation. It is unfair! Without true love, how can one possibly survive? Without true love, how can – "

"A-all right!" Arthur interrupted, blushing. "Can you get on to the part about the wish please?"

Francoise looked over at the two princes, looking from one to the other and eyeing them up carefully. She liked very much what their blushing, embarrassed faces told her.

"So rude. _Just_ like an Englishman," she said, and quickly continued before Arthur could voice his outrage. "Well. The despicable suitor I mentioned was so furious that I rejected him, that he asked his fairy godmother to curse me."

"You, too?!" Alfred exclaimed.

"Ah, another victim, I see," Francoise smiled sadly. "Those fairy godmothers need to be restrained, I tell you."

"I _know_, right! Just doing whatever their dickish godchildren tell them!"

"So, this suitor wanted to punish me," Francoise continued. "He knew that I refused to marry until I found my true love, and so far, my dear papa had indulged me. But with the curse put on me, with everyone knowing that I could grant someone a wish, suitors began to come in floods, offering more and more to my father in exchange for my hand in marriage. My dear papa had no choice but to consider some of these incredible dowries, and I knew it was not long before he gave in and accepted someone.

"And so I ran away. Here. And I've been living happily ever since, if not a bit modestly."

"You're not trapped here?" Alfred asked. "We heard you were a damsel in distress and everything."

Francoise looked confused. "I can assure I am _not_ stuck here. No one needs to rescue me, like it's some fairy tale. Perhaps my father spread a false rumour to get brave knights and princes to go looking for me. Although, I really think letting everyone know about the wish was enough incentive."

"Couldn't you have just granted your wish to any old person?" asked Arthur. "Get the curse off your back, and all that?"

"Don't you think I would have done, if it were that easy? Imbecile," Francoise scoffed, making Arthur turn almost purple in anger. "It must be a _selfless_ wish. And I did not meet anyone in my palace who had one."

At this, Alfred and Arthur paused – and then they realised that this was their opening.

"I DO!" they both shouted at once.

"Oh, _do_ you now?" Francoise smirked at them. She liked these two, and their blatant sexual tension. But she didn't believe their wishes would be any different from the others. "Go on then, let's hear them."

"I wish for Alfred – "

"I WISH FOR ARTHUR – "

"One at a time, please," Francoise demanded, holding up her hand to stop their shouting. She turned to Alfred. "You first. You are making a wish for _Arthur_? Not for yourself?" Maybe this would be more interesting than she thought.

"Yes, I am," said Alfred solemnly. He took a deep breath. "I wish for Arthur's family to accept him and love him and treat him as they do each other, even though he's a bastard child."

Arthur gulped, wishing the 'bastard child' bit didn't have to be admitted out loud in front of a French princess. But Francoise didn't make any jokes, or even sneer at him. Instead she nodded soberly, and turned to Arthur.

"You next."

"I…I wish for Alfred's curse to be lifted."

"And what is that curse?"

"He…" Arthur paused for a moment, his mouth suddenly going dry. "He can't have true love's kiss."

A very awkward silence settled over the kitchen. The two princes stood there shuffling in embarrassment, and Francoise was trying not to let her excitement show, to see if she could draw this out for a bit longer.

"And that concerns you, does it? That he cannot kiss his true love? You are involved somehow?"

"N-n-n-_no_!" Arthur stuttered out, so tellingly that the stallions and princess almost wanted to cringe. "I just – it's unfair! The cruse is…unjust and…it should be lifted. It's not like I'm doing this for _him_. I'm just doing what any good person would do."

"Tell me something," said Francoise thoughtfully, a finger on her chin. "When did you two meet? You are childhood friends, oui?"

"No," Alfred admitted, a little confused. Did it really look like they were that close? "We just met a few weeks ago. We were both on a quest to find you and ask you to grant our own wish. We hated each other at first, and kept doing stupid pranks trying to stop each other from finding you. But then Arthur…sort of saved me…even though it was _his_ fault I was in trouble in the first place. And then we started travelling together and kind of…became friends?"

"And then Alfred said he was going to ask you to grant _my_ wish," Arthur continued. "But his wish is obviously more important than mine." At Francoise's raised eyebrow, Arthur knew he'd said too much. "I mean, he's under a bloody curse! It's not like I care if he can kiss his true love one day, or something – whoever that is. Probably some dumb, pretty, American blonde. A perfect match for him, really. Not that he's pretty! I just mean…uh…Look, it's a bloody curse, all right!" he exclaimed. "Just grant _my_ wish! _His_ wish doesn't matter!"

"But he is making a wish that _you_ want. Don't your own desires matter anymore, Your Highness?"

Arthur looked down at his feet and contemplated this. It's not that they didn't matter. He still wanted his family to think of him as one of them. But for some reason – some reason that was _not_ just because of the unfair curse – he wanted to help Alfred more.

"Not when it comes to Alfred's happiness," he admitted. (And if anyone ever made him say something like that again, he would not be held responsible for the ensuing massacre.)

"I see," said Francoise, greatly enjoying the wide-eyed, blushing expression Alfred had turned to Arthur, who was resolutely ignoring him. "And when you have got your wish, and returned to your own kingdoms, do you plan to go together? Will you see each other again, often?"

The two princes chanced a glance at each other. Arthur opened his mouth, but all that came out was an odd, strangled gurgle, so he quickly shut up.

"We…haven't really talked about it," said Alfred, looking down at the floor, ashamed. "I guess not. We both have stuff to do, royal lives to live, and our kingdoms don't get on too well. Once one of us gets our wish we'll probably just…go our separate ways…I guess."

The two princes stood there, gazing forlornly down at their feet, twin expressions of unhappiness written on their faces.

_At last_, thought Francoise. _At last, I have seen true love._

"I have made my decision," she announced.

The two princes looked up, not even daring to hope. Suddenly, their wishes didn't make them so happy anymore, at the thought that they would barely ever see each other again.

"Both wishes are selfless." At that, Alfred and Arthur began to get excited. "But then again, people in love have a tendency to put their love before themselves."

There was almost a solid minute of silence as the gears in their heads slowly churned and processed what the princess had said. And when the cogs finally clicked into place, the princes turned red in unison and began to flail.

"I'm not – "

"He's not – "

"You don't understand – "

"You've got it all wrong – "

Francoise waved her hand. "Oh, I don't think so. I think this is true love I see before me, and I think _I_ would know true love when I see it. It is my area of expertise, although I have never been lucky enough to be in it myself. And that is why I _hate_ you both for being so _obtuse_!"

The men stopped their arguing for a moment at the look of hurt and anger on the princess's face.

"All my life I have dreamt and waited and _longed_ for what you have right here in front of you! How _dare_ you be so blind and stupid as to refuse this gift when it's handed to you! Do you even realise how lucky you are?!"

At possibly the worst moment they could have chosen, the two princes looked at each other. And they realised that everything the princess said was true.

But that didn't mean they had to admit it yet.

"Look, if we both have selfless wishes, just _pick_ one and get it over with!" Arthur demanded, crossing his arms stubbornly. "Then you can either stay here in your cottage or sod off back home, curse-free. I don't care either way."

Francoise raised her fine eyebrows at him. "_Well_. As it happens, I choose _your_ wish, Prince Arthur. And all you do is _yell_ at me? Very gracious of you, indeed. I suppose it's my fault for expecting a thank you from an Englishman."

Arthur's eyes grew double in amazement. "_My_ wish? You…you're granting my wish? Alfred's curse is – "

"All gone," smiled Francoise.

"What, _already_?" Alfred asked, looking down at his hands as if hoping to see some evidence of magic there. "No sparkles or magic light or anything?"

"I'm not a magician," the princess scoffed, turning her nose in the air. "Although…Now that I think of it, I've never granted a wish before. Maybe I did it wrong. You two had better kiss, just to make sure it worked."

They would have loved to deny her, but as the princes opened their mouths to protest, their stallions whinnied and neighed – practically screaming at them to just do it already.

The princes turned to face each other.

"Um…I guess…we could, then?" Alfred mumbled.

"I-if you insist…" Arthur stuttered.

It could not have been a more awkward true love's first kiss if they tried, thought Francoise. The stallions thought so, too – but they'd be damned if they missed this.

So they watched as Alfred and Arthur each took a step forward, looking anywhere but at each other. Alfred raised his hands and put them on Arthur's shoulders, for something to keep him stable. They stayed like that for far too long, each too nervous to take the next step.

But finally Arthur looked up, catching Alfred's eyes on the way. And Alfred found himself distracted from the awkwardness of their situation as he looked into Arthur's eyes, trying to pick out all the different greens through the milky colour of the moonlight shining on Arthur's face. He was so lost in the face before him that before he had time to worry about it, Alfred was leaning down, Arthur was leaning up, their eyes were closing, and their lips were touching.

At first it was just a touch – if he cared to admit it, it was Alfred's very _first_ kiss, and he'd never really given the technique much thought before. But soon he found his lips moving, actually moulding to Arthur's as they turned their heads a little. A thrill shot through Alfred's body, making every part of his body tingle from his head to his toes. But the thrilling sensation seemed to be mostly concentrated around his heart. He gripped Arthur's shoulders tighter, honestly believing that he might actually float away if he didn't hold on.

Far too soon for Alfred's liking, they drew away from each other, slowly opening their eyes and blinking.

They were just about to smile goofily at each other when there were whinnies, neighs, and loud clapping.

"Oh la la! C'était magnifique! So wonderful! Magical, even! True love's first kiss, right before my eyes!"

Arthur and Alfred found it all too easy to fall into their usual defensive, denial mode.

"It's not like it was _true love's_ first kiss!"

"Yeah, there's no way to tell. But that's good. Now we know I can kiss people."

"Yes. Jolly good. Well done, Alfred."

"Thank you, Arthur."

Francoise laughed at them.

"Well, now that's one problem settled. But what about dear Alfred's wish, hm? Poor Arthur's family won't magically accept him now, will they," the princess asked, trying to encourage along the next part of her plan.

Arthur and Alfred paused in their blustering.

"Oh…Right," said Arthur. He sighed dejectedly, and Alfred's heart would have gone out to him, if it didn't belong to Arthur already. "It's all right. I can keep trying to win them over. I've managed this long, and it's not a bad life really. I'll just – "

"You'll just be the Ambassador between the Kingdoms of England and America."

Arthur turned slowly, and stared at Alfred. "You what?"

"Our kingdoms aren't really friends, right? We've talked about it before. But…well, if you're up for it, we could try and _make_ them be friends? You and I could work together to build up a strong alliance between England and America – the first alliance our kingdoms have had in centuries! That'd make your dad proud, right? And…you and I…we'd get to see each other a lot more…If…if that's something you'd like?"

Arthur blushed and looked away, and Alfred found himself surprised that no matter how many times the English prince did it, it was always as cute as the first time. Because now that he was allowed to think it to himself, he could admit that it had always been pretty cute.

Arthur swallowed thickly. "It's…a brilliant plan, Alfred. And I…I would love that. Very much."

When Arthur dared looked back up, he found Alfred beaming at him so widely that the English prince couldn't help but join in. Alfred took Arthur's hands in his, and they might just have kissed again they were so happy. But they were surprised out of it when they heard the horses neighing in celebration, and Francoise clapping once again.

"You two are like a play!" the princess laughed. "Watching you is so fun. I feel like I should pay you."

"Will you be okay, Princess?" asked Alfred, still holding Arthur's hands. "Will you go home now?"

"I suppose I will," said Francoise, mulling it over. "I may not have liked any of my suitors back in my kingdom, but at least I_ had_ some. There's nobody out here at all! I'll never find my true love living out in the wilderness. You two will come and visit me in France, won't you?"

"Sure thing!" smiled Alfred. Arthur only mumbled something unintelligible. "Well, thank you for all your help, Your Highness, but we've kept you up long enough. We'll be off now."

"No trouble at all, dear Alfred. It is_ I_ who must thank _you_, for breaking my curse. If you're sure you must go, then I bid you farewell."

The two princes bowed and took their leave of the princess. Their stallions were waiting for them outside, raring to go.

"Will you go straight home?" asked Francoise, standing in the doorway to see them off.

Alfred and Arthur looked at each other as they sat on their horses.

"We'll go the long way," smiled Arthur, and Alfred grinned back.

"Then I must suggest a lovely little village about a day's ride north of here. Quite the opposite direction of both your kingdoms I'm afraid. But last time I passed through, they were having some trouble with a dragon, I believe."

"All right! _YES_!" crowed Alfred, pumping his fist in the air.

"Have a safe journey!" Francoise called after them, as the princes started off, waving back at her. "And be sure to invite me to the wedding!"

Hero and Wistful barely noticed Alfred trying to calm a furious Arthur, urging him not to go back and murder the French princess. The stallions were just too content to care, as they trotted merrily down the moonlit road towards new adventure.

Although they both knew they would still have a _lot_ of work keeping an eye on their princes. Those humans were far too oblivious to be trusted on their own. They would need a good pair of horses to make sure they lived happily ever after, until the very end.

And if Wistful and Hero got to live happily ever after together as a result, well, that was just a bonus.

The End.


End file.
